


The Hidden Angels

by DoctorVoodoo



Category: Cherik - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom, mcfassy - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorVoodoo/pseuds/DoctorVoodoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is now divided into slaves and masters. Charles is a slave to Erik Lensherr, and is attending a slave school. Charles returns home one day, wounded and beat up. Erik takes care of him, but the same people who beat up Charles comes back for a second time. But this time- They're there for another reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original story. Weird thought I kept having, really. Summary sucks, read story. XD Rated M for future chapters (or maybe the slave part? > . >)

Twiddling a pen between his fingers, he stared at the slave registration form with scowling eyes. He leaned back with a sigh, setting his pen down, rubbing at his eyes. Erik was oh so tired of these forms. Each month, a new one came to him and they were infinitely more difficult with every new form.Time seemed to crawl past, as he had started on this damn document at two, and now it was just two-thirty. He drew his hand through his hair, his deep blue eyes caught in thought for a moment.

BAM!

Erik jumped, stumbled out of his chair and instinctively grabbed the pistol out of the top drawer of his desk. The man paused at the doorway before stepping through, the gun lowered as a familiar face came through the door.

"Good morning, master." Charles whispered, not meeting his eyes. The man was covered in sweat, along with numerous cuts and bruises. He was bleeding from a gash on the left side of his forehead, and the fingers of his right hand looked mangled and broken.

Erik's heart clenched. "Charles, what happened?" His slave looked like he had gone ten rounds with a rhino- and lost. Erik slipped an arm around him, resting a soothing hand on his back and leading him to the study. He sat Charles down on one of the green armchairs. The man was trembling, and did not dare to look up at his master, who was fuming in anger. Who would do such a thing?

Digging through the first-aid bag, Erik withdrew some bandages, antiseptic wipes, along with a few wet cloths. He returned to Charles, sitting on the armrest of the chair and carefully cleaning his wounds. "Who did this to you, my love?" he asked, keeping any anger he had out of his voice. Charles jumped, wincing away from the antiseptic wipe that had been pressed against the still-bleeding gash on his forehead. Erik gripped his slave's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Come now, it will sting at first. But it is better than getting an infection, yes?" Charles hesitantly leaned back. Erik heard how laboured his breathing was, and frowned.

"I was trying to get home from school, master. These men came out from the shadows and attacked me, called me a 'mutant'...What do they mean, master?" Charles' big, innocent eyes stared at him, expecting Erik to know all about it. Erik looked into the blue orbs, and sighed.

"No, my love. I don't know why they would say that... Come, let's get you washed up." Erik swiped his thumb over Charles' bottom lip, smiling softly. Charles attempted to stand up, but his legs wobbled uselessly and he fell back in the chair with a sharp intake of breath. Erik frowned, throwing an arm around his 'slave' and dragging him up, holding him against his side and walked slowly toward his bedroom, setting Charles down gently on the bed. "I'll get the water running." he said, a faint smile crawling back on his face before stepping out of sight.

Charles lay back, staring at the ceiling. Those men called him a freak, unnatural...a mutant. But he was human, wasn't he?

The sudden sound of the door opening made him crane his neck, the familiar figure of his master standing in the doorway making him smile. Erik slid over to him and picked him up, and spun them both around.

\---------------

Charles came from an unknown family. Really, the only thing anyone knew about him was that he came from England. No slave really knew much about their parents, really. If one did, they were truly lucky. But it wasn't just their parentage or origin that was lost on them. It was their entire uniqueness.

Charles attended the Sebastian Shaw School of Servitude, or, as some of the 'students' called it, Hell on Earth. It was run by, you guessed it, Sebastian Shaw. The older man had introduced his master to him, the only good thing the crotchety, hateful being had ever done. Charles clenched his fist at the memory absently.

Of course, this was also the way the world was run now. Slaves, masters, overlords, and horrible schools. It was like the dark ages all over again.Basicly, when a child reaches the age of five, the parents are forced to pick what kind of slave they wanted their child to be. There were body-guard like slaves, gardeners, mechanics, slaves who drive people around, and cleaning slaves, and more. Charles had gotten picked as the most basic level a child could have been chosen for: Personal Assistant Slave, or P.A.S's. This classification was rather random to Charles. You did a lot of things under that title.

The sad part of his classification was that he was one of the worst treated slaves at school. Charles was twenty-four years old, while his master, Erik, was twenty-six. P.A.S's did not receive fighting classes, nor basic reading or writing, which should be included when one has to write something down for their master. They also did not attend any form of first-aid, which was pretty saddening.

Basicly, P.A.S's only got sexual education, history of the Earth, how to speak properly to one's master, how to take punishments, and, weirdly, how to draw and paint. Charles hated the slave school because it crushed his life and fed it to the people in charge. Only a small part that he kept was for his master.

Charles was planning on graduating soon, and then going a year, perfectly serving Erik Lensherr so he could be free. Yes, that is what he was going to do.

"Charles?" His eyes flicked up from his spot on the bed. His master stood in the doorway, leaning against it with a big smile pulling at his lips.

"Yes, Master Lensherr?" Charles looked up with widened eyes, attempting to sit up, but his body burned in pain. He let out a tiny groan and lay back against the bed. "F-forgive me master, I cannot seem to g-get up-"

Erik sits down next to him, leaned over and pressed his lips to Charles' cheek. "Shh, liebe. I know it hurts. I came to tell you that I've gotten you a few days off from school, so you can heal." His master's eyes darken a moment. "If those kids touch you again, I swear I'll..." he breaks off, realizing he is scaring his slave. "Sorry, dear." He pressed an apologetic kiss to Charles' nose, making the smaller man wiggle his nose in response, those red lips tugging into a smile.

"Thank you, Master. I am greatful." Charles' vivid blue eyes shone. "Also...Could I know what is wrong with me? I have been feeling a horrible pain in my abdomen all morning, master." Erik blinked once, twice then let out a huff through his nose.

"You have three broken ribs, Charles." he scowled deeply. "They- Those other slaves at school did this to you? Which ones, Charles?"

Charles looked up, eyes wide and glassy. "Those sons of Shaw's, master. The ones who run the fighting class." he said simply, lowering his gaze to his master's hands. "I regret to inform you that I do not know what their names are." Erik nodded, reaching up and threading his slender fingers through his slave's brunette hair.

Silently, Charles wanted to kick himself where the sun doesn't shine. His master was worried for him, and was spending his precious time with him instead of working. Charles pressed his lips together, avoiding Erik's concerned blue orbs. "What is bothering you, liebe?"

"Nothing, master." he lied easily, offering the older man a reassuring smile. Erik chuckled, shaking his head and drawing soft fingertips over his slave's reddening cheeks. Charles leaned into the touch, closing his eyes momentarily. He felt himself drifting slightly in the darkened void that was his mind, the only thing anchoring him there was Erik.

"Go to sleep, mein liebe." Erik pressed a kiss to Charles' forehead. "I will see to getting your homework."

When the last line was spoken, the brunette finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

\------------------

"What? How DARE you come into my house and demand that I hand over Charles? You can take your sad little selves and run back to Shaw with empty hands- You won't be getting him!"

Charles bolted up from his slumber, a dull ache sparking into pain at the movement. His heart stopped before he stood up on shaky legs. Charles' hand found the wall as he scooted closer to the room his master was in.

BANG!

He gasped, rounding the corner. Erik was slumped against the wall, hand clamped over his shoulder with blood oozing from between his fingers. His master looked up. "Charles, RUN!"

If he had any other life, he would have. If he had never known Erik, he would have run far away.

Instead, the still-healing slave turned to the two men who were holding guns, one was smoking still. Charles' gaze shifted from panicked to deadly as he hobbled forward. "Get out of here!" he snarled, holding up a thick iron pole (which Erik had stoed away for security reasons) threateningly. The two men laughed together. Charles noticed, quite quickly infact, that they were twins.

The twins who had beat him.

Charles' eyes darkened in rage as he darted forward, raising the pipe and swinging it like a bat across the first twin's face, hearing a loud "thunk" noise. The boy dropped to the ground, the gun going with him. Charles let out a satisfactory gasp before wailing in pain as arms wrapped around him, rendering him useless. "Get off me, you- You-!" The man headbutted Charles, and all he saw was black.

Erik wailed in pain as another shot ran through his leg. "You bastard!" The man chuckled, hoisting a bloody Charles over his shoulder. "B-bring him back here!"

The twin looked at his dead brother. He simply shrugged, then paused. "If you try and follow me, even in your condition, Lensherr..." he pointed the gun at Charles' head. "He's a dead little slave." With that, he walked away, leaving a dead body and a half-dead Erik behind him.

Erik stared at the floor, breathing harshly. "Charles..." he whimpered,closing his eyes to the onslought of tears.

It was later that evening, when Erik was sitting at the fireplace, that he realized the full extent of what had happened. Shaw had Charles now, Shaw had a powerful /telepath/. No doubt they already had Charles strapped down, getting tortured and Lord knows what else.

His liebe was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of my stories are Beta'd, so expect lots of errors.

A hard, unforgiving slap hit him across the face, rousing him from his dreamless slumber.

Sebastian Shaw's face greeted him, along with another slap. "Wake up, boy!" A snarl, and Shaw steps back, satisfied. "Welcome back to the world of the awake- How do you feel?"

Charles looked up, his upper lip curling slightly. "I have NOTHING to say to you, sir." he winced, a sudden rush of nausea catching him off guard. Shaw let out a dark chuckle.

"Amusing, isn't he?" A short cluck of the tongue, and Charles looked up, sending a glare at Emma Frost, Shaw's right-hand woman. She squinted at him, tilting her head. Suddenly, Charles felt sleepy, his eyelids drooping. What? What was this?

\------------

"Charles! Quick, come see!"

Charles looked around. He was surrounded by beautiful, tall trees, bathed in sunlight. If he listened, he heard water splashing around.

"Charles! Come on!"

He looked up once more before following the voice, trudging through the forest, avoiding the roots of the trees. Soon, Charles came across a river.

"M-Master Lensherr?" Erik looked up, grinning widely. His hair was wet, slicked back, and his eyes were sparkling brightly.

"Come on, liebe. We have much to catch up on!" Erik suddenly bolted from the shallow river, running away from him. Charles gasped, giving chase.

"Master! Master, please, WAIT!"

But he couldn't hear Erik, or see him. The trees suddenly thinned into nothing, and a deathly silence fell. Charles screeched Erik's name, looking franticly around. "Please!" Charles collapsed, dropping to his knees and gripping either side of his head, a sharp, piercing pain ripping through his skull. "MASTER!"

Soon, he felt a warm presence through the pain. Arms wrapped around him, but to whom they belonged, Charles did not know. He forced his eyes open, reavealing the red face and stunning blue eyes of Azazel. He looked down, raising an eyebrow. "Good morning, Xavier." the other mutant mumbled, looking back up.

"Where are you going with him?" Shaw. Charles scowled and absently shifted in Azazel's arms. As uncomfortable an, well, WEIRD this was, he'd rather be in Azazel's arms then with Shaw.

"I am taking him to the infirmary." the red mutant replied, eyeing Shaw. The other chuckled, stepping aside with a simple 'go on'. Charles closed his eyes, burying his face weakly (and rather awkwardly) into Azazel's coat. The light, to be honest, was hurting his eyes and adding to his headache. Azazel stiffened slightly, but kept on toward the infirmary.

"What is it now, Aza?"

Charles turned his head around, staring into the even brighter room of the infirmary. There stood a young man with black hair that was around shoulder length, and sea-green eyes that had flicked up to see them. The man wore a white shirt with an indigo suit vest, and a tail poked out of his back, that was tipped with long black bristles.

"Good morning to you too, Erik." Azazel grumbled back, setting Charles down on the cold metal table. The man- apparently named Erik- glared at the red mutant. "Oh, sorry, 'Edge'." There was a playful glint to Azazel's eyes. Edge blinked slowly before chuckling.

"Allright, what is up with this guy?" Edge's fingers felt soft against his forehead. "Wait, hold that thought. Yeesh! He's a burnin'!"

Charles let out an annoyed huff. "Really, I hadn't noticed." Edge's tail swatted his arm.

"Oi! You may be sick but I will not tolerate ill-sarcasm...Uhh.."

"Charles." Azazel said, helping the younger man out. Edge adjusted his glasses.

"Right, Charl-" Edge paused. "Ch-Charles XAVIER?" The man's eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets. "Why, in the maker's name, is Charles Xavier on my table, with a brain injury of sorts? He is one of the greatest mutants eve-"

"Joel..." Shaw grinned, stepping in. "How very nice of you to notice. But, we don't need you all fangirling over poor Charles."

"Excuse me, but I'm the doctor here." Edge snarled, rounding the table and standing tall over Shaw. "He shouldn't even BE here. He has nothing to do with your cause."

"Nor do you, my good doctor." Shaw's eyes darkened. "Does this mean you won't work for me anymore?" Shaw clicked his tongue and stepped aside, observing Charles, laying almost limp on the table. "No, you see, Joel, Erik, Edge, whatever." His cold eyes flicked to the unwavering one's of Joel...no, Edge.

"Oh, and what is keeping me from just grabbing Charles and getting out of here? You know your power doesn't work on me." Edge's whole body glowed white until he was floating there with glowing green eyes, his body a flexible...mass. Charles stared in wonder. "You know what the kids say now. 'Come at me, bro'."

"Gentlemen, please." Charles rasped from the table. "Can you fight after I am tended to?" The injured man thumped his head back on the metal table. Shaw grinned at Edge, but the tailed mutant would not give in so easily.

"Better stop your bitching, Shaw. Or I may have to kill you like Lensherr would have." Edge bared his teeth, shifting back into his humanoid self. Shaw shrugged once before stepping out of the room.

"I apologize, Mr.Xavier, I didn't want him to let you come to harm-"

"He already did, Joel." Azazel's eyes flared in annoyance. "The man could kill himself laughing if he knew what horrible things you said about him behind his back." The Russian let out a chuckle. "You really do have a horrible mouth."

Edge leaned over Charles, pressing his hands to his temples. "They've...put a neural damper on you? Mein GOTT." The other mutant retracted his hands. "How DARE they.. How...I'm going to kill him!"

Azazel looked confused. "What is a neural damper, before you entirely spaz out?" Edge glared at him for a moment, before sighing and resting a comforting hand on Charles' thigh.

"Basically, Charles cannot read our minds, take control of anything, and will take any order that is given. The best I can do for him is making the damper recognize me as its master, so Shaw won't make him do anything." Edge's voice had trailed off. Charles blinked. 'Neural damper? Oh god.'

Azazel stood. "We should get him back to his master after you...err, fix it. Last I heard, Kevin shot Lensherr...twice. I think Charles may want to know if he is ok." Azazel's blue eyes flicked at the motionless slave on the table, a bit of guilt swarming in there, along with worry and repressed anger.

"I am listening to you two, you know that, right?" Charles huffed, rolling his eyes.

\--------

Edge fell to the ground, taking Charles with him. Azazel stumbled and slumped against the wall.

"That," Azazel breathed harshly. "Is the last time I try and take directions from a scattered brain!"

Edge stared at Azazel. "Your teleportation is getting rusty." He huffed, rolling off of Charles.

At the click of what sounded suspiciously like a gun, Azazel looked past Edge. Erik Lensherr, who was leaning against the wall for support, was holding a handgun in his right hand, aiming it at Edge's head.

"Who the hell are you?" The slave master demanded, his lips tugging into a snarl.

"Whoa, whoa!" Edge turned fully, one hand resting on Charles' back. "Mr. Lensherr, we brought Charles back to you. You don't have to shoot anyone- You know how it feels." Erik's eyes flicked from Edge to Charles, then to Azazel.

Erik hesitantly dropped the gun and stepped toward Charles and away from the wall- Which was a mistake. The taller man fell to his uninjured knee, slumping forward. "Charles? Liebe?"

"Go away, Shaw. I know you're just playing me."

Erik stared a long moment before silently looking at Edge and Azazel. "What did he do to Charles?" Azazel sighed, his tail swaying lightly.

"Shaw put something called a neural damper on him. It is programed to block his telepathy, and to make him obey whoever it is programed to be the master." he scowled. "Who was Shaw, and is now Edge." Azazel gestured to Edge, trying not to make sudden movements.

"You WHAT?" Erik's eyes flared.

"No, please, listen! I had to or Shaw would have done something terrible to him, Mr. Lensherr." Joel flicked his tail, helping Azazel drag Charles to the couch on in the living room. "I'm sorry we couldn't have been here when...it happened."

Erik eyed them both suspiciously before leaning over Charles, running his finger tips over his cheeks. The slave appeared to be asleep, which was odd. He looked at Azazel and Edge.

"Did you put him to sleep?"

"Yes," Azazel wrung his hands. "The trip here might have hurt him further if he had been awake."

"Well, I suppose..." Erik trailed off, lifting his eyes to fully look at the two other mutants. "Thank you for bringing him back to me."


End file.
